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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25928344">Sending You a Message</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanji/pseuds/Nanji'>Nanji</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>I Hope We Find What We're Looking For [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Diamond is Unbreakable, JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Vento Aureo, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drinking, Drunk Dancing, Flirting, Fluff, Implied ProMis, M/M, Mentions of NaraTrish, Rohan is only 3 years older than Giorno here, Sexual Tension, They have no stands</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:42:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25928344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanji/pseuds/Nanji</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"The paintings of all<br/>They tell the tales of<br/>The faces that lie beyond these halls<br/>And carry the weight of love and loss"</p><p>(from <i>Love &amp; Loss</i> by The Honey Trees)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Giorno Giovanna/Guido Mista, Giorno Giovanna/Kishibe Rohan, Guido Mista/Giorno Giovanna, Kishibe Rohan/Giorno Giovanna</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>I Hope We Find What We're Looking For [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871932</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Of Love and Loss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please know that the ages of the characters are adjusted in all parts of this series! :) Giorno is 18, which makes Mista 21. Rohan's age is also adjusted to 21 to avoid awkward age gaps.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Giorno pulls on his luggage bag as he swiftly walks out of the immigration check and into the arrival area of Charles de Gaulle Airport. He looks at the display screen: Paris. November 25, Wednesday, 14:00, 11° C. </p><p><em> ‘Finally,’ </em> He thinks to himself. <em> ‘Some soul-searching.’ </em> He remembers what Bucciarati told him several months ago on that Friday night: <em> ‘Do it for you—what is best for your heart’. </em> </p><p>It wasn’t easy, but he had to do it. He had to fully shatter his heart that was already full of cracks so that he could pick up the pieces and rebuild himself. He had to cut the ropes that bound him to the ground so he could fly and soar through the skies. He had to let go of his world in order to find his paradise.</p><p>He had to let go of Mista in order to find himself.</p><p>He walks toward the taxi lane and hops into a cab to take him to his hotel. He takes the opportunity to observe the roads and scenery of Paris—letting his eyes absorb the sight of the foreign land. It is a bright and beautiful day.</p><p>His mind drifts off to memories from six months ago…</p><p>--</p><p>
  <em> “So you’re just gonna leave? That’s it? You’re simply going to waste four years? Over that? You’re being fucking selfish, Giorno!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The length of our relationship doesn’t determine how strong or loving it is, Mista,” he sighs. “It’s just not working anymore…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It takes two to make a relationship work! Don’t you understand that?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Don’t you think I’m already trying?!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Then fucking try harder!!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He slaps Mista.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “G-Giorno, I—” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I-I’m...,” he stutters. He starts to tremble as tears start to fall endlessly from his eyes. “I’m—” he starts to hiccup. “M-Mista I—” he falls to his knees and covers his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice full of remorse. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, M-Mista—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please, Mista I’m sorry—” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mista drops to his knees and wraps his arms around Giorno. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No no no no,” the older man cooes. Yet it was obvious that his voice was starting to crack. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m sorry, Giorno. I didn’t mean to raise my voice like that.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s all my fault,” the blond cries out. “It’s all my fault!” he shouts. “I’m stupid, I’m numb, I’m selfish. So fucking selfish. I ruined everything. I ruined us.” </em>
</p><p>--</p><p>The cab driver snaps Giorno out of his stupor as he signals that they’ve arrived at the hotel. Giorno, trying to regain his composure, pays the man, takes his luggage, and leaves. </p><p>He walks into Hotel Paris Neuilly and checks into his room on the 9th floor. As he gets settled into his room, he gazes outside to take in the Parisian sights. However, the same memory from the cab continues to linger and haunt him. Giorno forcibly tries to shake off the thought and thinks of a way to clear his mind. After all, that was the main reason for his trip. He wouldn’t want to waste it.</p><p>He decides to visit the Louvre and appreciate the different works of art from around the world. As he walks around the museum, a certain piece catches his eye. Before him stood the Mona Lisa, piercing through him with its gaze. A sense of comfort cradles him as he stares back at the painting. </p><p>He read somewhere that it took Da Vinci four years to paint the Mona Lisa’s mouth. A smile that wasn’t quite a smile. What was she hiding behind that grin? In a way, Giorno realizes that he too shared the Mona Lisa’s smile; something that doesn’t reveal too much. Giorno shrugs it off and continues to explore more of what the museum has to offer. </p><p> </p><p>After taking all the time he needed in the Louvre, he eats a simple dinner nearby, and he takes a cab to head back to his hotel room and rest. By the time he returns, the clock reads 20:00.</p><p>He takes off his overcoat, hangs it in his closet, and takes a warm shower. As he steps out of the bathroom wearing a simple white robe, his phone starts to vibrate. It’s Narancia calling him.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“Dude. I think you’re trending on IG. What the fuck?”</p><p>“I don’t understand. What are you talking abou—”</p><p>“Hold on. I’ll send you screenshots.”</p><p>Narancia abruptly hangs up the phone and within minutes, floods Giorno’s phone with screenshots of photos of him taken at the Louvre. They were stolen shots of him admiring the different works found in the museum. From the Venus de Milo and the Winged Victory of Samothrace to the Raft of the Medusa, and of course, the Mona Lisa. Giorno’s eyes gravitated towards his shot of the Mona Lisa, it was as if he was mimicking the painting’s smile.</p><p>His trance was broken by Narancia’s text: <em> Read the captions</em>.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: “You admire, I admire” </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: “An Angel stands before his kind” </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: “Let me be your hope. Let me rescue you.” </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: “Will you be my Mona Lisa?” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Each of the photos had tons of likes and hashtags, but one particular hashtag caught him by surprise. </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> #HelpMeFindHim </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>As soon as he read those words, an old but familiar feeling started to well up inside him. His heart started to race, he could feel his cheeks warm up as they slowly but surely started turning red. He quickly goes on IG to find this Heavens_DoorR. A few taps, and he finds himself at Heavens_DoorR’s page. He sees his photos taking up the top portion of the grid. He opens one up, and without a second thought, types: </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> @Heavens_DoorR Hey. That’s me. HMU? :) </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>A few minutes later, Giorno’s phone vibrates.  Without hesitation, Giorno picks it up, eager to see @Heavens_DoorR’s reply. His thrill quickly soured by the revelation that it was just Narancia calling again. Giorno lets out a sigh as he answers the phone.</p><p>“...What?”</p><p>“Woah what crawled up your butt? But woah. Giorno. Don’t tell me you’re ready to move on? I saw your reply to the post.”</p><p>Giorno chuckles a bit.</p><p>“Come on, Narancia. It’s been six months. Don’t you think it’s about time I moved on?”</p><p>“I guess… Well, if you think you’re ready, then go get ‘em!”</p><p>“Thanks, Narancia.”</p><p>“Oh and remember to use protection!!!”</p><p>Before Narancia could hang up, Giorno suddenly stutters.</p><p>“W-wait. Narancia. Are you still there?”</p><p>“Oh? Yeah, buddy! What’s up?”</p><p>“How’s Mista doing? Is he okay?”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>“Narancia, you still there?”</p><p>“Y-Yeah buddy! Uhh. I haven’t checked in with him in a while cause of school and all, but I’m sure he’s fine! Yeah! I’m guessing he’s fine! Don’t worry about him! Just enjoy your trip to Paris! You deserve it!! Byeeee!”</p><p>Narancia hangs up the phone. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>After the call, Narancia quickly turns to Trish. She instantly notices him flustered and asks, “Narancia, what’s wrong? You look like you’re trying to solve a math problem.”</p><p>“Well… I just had a call with Giorno.”</p><p>“Oh yeah. Isn’t he trending right now on IG? I saw the posts.”</p><p>“Do you think someone else saw those posts? Someone who’d… You know…”</p><p>Narancia raises his eyebrows at Trish, trying his best not to say his name. Trish already knows what he’s trying to say.</p><p>“I’ll go check up on him.”</p><p>In another room, Mista is lying on his side as he slowly scrolls through the same images on his feed. A picture of the Venus De Milo, the Mona Lisa, the Raft of the Medusa, and the Victory of Samothrace. Each of those photos had one similarity: a golden-haired boy in front of them. Reading through the captions again, Mista tries to gulp down the bulge he feels in his throat. Close To You by the Carpenters blares in his room’s speakers.</p><p>The door cracks open and Trish pokes her head inside to take a peak.</p><p>“Hey, Mista. How you doin’?”</p><p>“I saw the posts. He’s trending,” is all he says.</p><p>“How are you feeling?”</p><p>Mista doesn’t answer. He lets the music fill the air for a short while.</p><p>
  <em> So they sprinkled moondust in your hair of gold and starlight in your eyes... </em>
</p><p>“I wish I was the one taking those photos oh him.”</p><p>“.... I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?”</p><p>“Just leave me alone for now. Thanks for the concern. I’ll be fine, eventually.”</p><p>“Okay… If you need anything, Narancia and I are just  in the other room okay?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Trish closes the door, leaving Mista to his own devices.</p><p>He saves the four photos on his phone and crops them out until only Giorno remains in the frame. He hated the number 4. He always associated it with terrible luck, even death. But right now, at this moment, he desperately clings on to that number like dear life as he stares at each photo.  </p><p>
  <em> Just like me… </em>
</p><p>“It wouldn’t hurt to keep these for myself.” </p><p>
  <em> They long to be... </em>
</p><p>He thinks to himself as his vision starts to blur. The music accompanies Mista as he finally loses control and his eyes overflow with tears.</p><p>
  <em> Close to you. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Equally Lost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"We got drunken hearts and we're dancing more than enough"</p><p>(from <i>Equally Lost</i> by Tove Lo ft. Doja Cat)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please know that the ages of the characters are adjusted in all parts of this series! :) Giorno is 18, which makes Mista 21. Rohan's age is also adjusted to 21 to avoid awkward age gaps. </p><p>There's sexual tension in this chapter, but nothing too explicit, so we'll keep the rating T+</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Giorno’s phone suddenly vibrates. Without missing a beat, Giorno picks it up. It was Heavens_DoorR.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: “I’m so glad IG helped me find you :) Didn’t expect it to be this fast tho haha.” </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Golden_HarunoS: “My friend saw it trending and called me immediately. Guess I’m famous now.” </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: “Then please grant me the honour of meeting you :) I would love to meet a model as famous as you ;)” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Giorno pauses, and reads back what Heavens_DoorR just sent. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts, and replies.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Golden_HarunoS: “Sadly, I’m not a local. I’m from Napoli.” </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: “I’m also a tourist. Would you happen to still be here in Paris?” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>A sly smile cracks Giorno’s lips. He starts to type again.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Golden_HarunoS: “And if I said no?” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>He texts in a way that seems dismissive and uninterested, trying to test what the photographer would say in reply.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: “Then I’d fly all the way to Napoli.” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Giorno’s eyes widen at the sight of Heavens_DoorR’s reply. He bites his lips in a desperate attempt to suppress the smile slowly growing on his face.               </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: “Do I book a flight now? I’ll really do it, you know.” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Stunned, Giorno’s mind races. He can’t think of anything else to say. He tries wracking his brain for the right words, grasping at anything he could say to reply.<em> ‘How impulsive! Booking a flight to Italy’ </em> he mutters to himself. After exhausting all other options, Giorno lets out a frustrated groan and calls Narancia.</p><p>“Well hello there, MR. FAMOUS MODEL WHO HAPPENED TO BE PHOTOGRAPHED BY JAPAN’S MOST FAMOUS ARTIST!!!”</p><p>“What?” Giorno blinks twice at Narancia’s remark.</p><p>“WHAT??? GIORNO, DIDN’T YOU CHECK HIS BIO??? DUDE, HE’S ROHAN KISHIBE!!! HE’S A SUPER FAMOUS ARTIST IN JAPAN!!! WHAT THE HELL?”</p><p>“Oh… so he’s from Japan—Wait, Narancia, calm down.”</p><p>“Ok ok ok. I’m calm, I’m cool, I’m collected, I’m GIDDY AS FUCK!!! GIORNO TEACH ME HOW YOU DO THAT!”</p><p>In the background, Giorno hears Trish smacking Narancia in the back of the head. He covers his mouth to make sure he doesn’t laugh at what he just heard.</p><p>“<em> Ouch!!! Sorry babe! I was just kidding! I’m just excited for Giorno! You know me!” </em></p><p>“Narancia…” He calls out as he tries to pull Narancia back on to the topic of the conversation.</p><p>“Sorry, sorry! I’ll be good! I’ll be good!!! So what's up, buddy?”</p><p>“I think,” The blond tries to clear his thoughts as he speaks. “Okay, I know this is going to sound absurd, but I need your help—”</p><p>”Giorno... if you’re gonna ask me anything on sex, I just want to remind you that you’ve done it with Mista a million times and I’m straight—”</p><p>“That’s not what I meant,” Giorno cuts in immediately as he rolls his eyes. “Here, I’ll send you something.”<br/>He sends Narancia screenshots of his conversation with the man named Rohan. Without hesitating, Narancia explodes into Giorno’s earpiece again.</p><p>“WHAT THE FUCK DUDE? JUST SAY YOU’LL MEET WITH HIM! YOU’RE IN PARIS, HE’S IN PARIS? PARIS? THE CITY OF LOVE? NOW YOU KNOW I CAN’T DO WORD PROBLEMS, BUT THIS IS A PRETTY EASY QUESTION. RIGHT? RIGHT, GIORNO? HEY!!!”</p><p>Giorno hears Trish smacking Narancia again. Narancia lets out another yelp, and turns to face Trish. Giorno can still hear their hushed voices through the phone.</p><p>
  <em> “Ow!!! What was that for?!” </em>
</p><p><em> “Shhhh not too loud! Someone might hear your conversation!” </em>Trish hisses.</p><p>Giorno realizes who Trish and Narancia were talking about and falls silent. As Narancia turns back to the call, Giorno recognizes a new tone in Narancia’s voice. A somewhat careful tone.</p><p>“Y-Yeah like I was saying, you should def go meet him, man. Again, just enjoy your time in Paris! Don’t overthink things! It’s a great place to be!”</p><p>The blond man remains silent.</p><p>“Giorno, you there?”</p><p>Giorno snaps back into reality and stammers before replying.</p><p>“Y-yeah. Still here.”</p><p>“So… uhm… Yeah! You remember what I said a while ago?” Giorno notices Narancia trying to avoid some choice words in his last remark. “D-Don’t make me repeat myself! City of—” </p><p>“Love. Yeah, I get it,” Giorno fills the word in for his friend and forces a smile. “You’re kinda gross most of the time, but okay. I’ll enjoy my stay here. Thanks, Narancia.”</p><p>“You got it, bud. Again, don’t forget to use protection!”</p><p>Before Giorno can react, Narancia ends the call. And once again, Giorno is alone, only accompanied by his thoughts and the monotonous beep of the dial tone. He tosses his phone lightly on his bed and paces around the room, thinking it over. </p><p>
  <em> “Of course I still care about Mista. But it’s been six long months since we broke up. He can’t possibly still be hung up on me, right? I don’t want to create a rift between everyone, but on the other hand, I haven’t felt like this in months.” </em>
</p><p>His thoughts were abruptly derailed by the vibration of his phone. It was Rohan.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: “I’m on my way to the airport. Wait for me in Aeroporto Internazionale di Napoli?” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Giorno’s eyes widen at the message. He isn’t serious, is he? He drops whatever witty reply he could think of and types quickly.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Golden_HarunoS: “Wait. I was lying. I didn’t think you’d actually do it. I’m still in Paris.” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Giorno thinks to himself <em> ‘I’m already here. Narancia’s right. I might as well enjoy my time here.’ </em>But in the back of his mind, the thought of Mista lingers. Within minutes, he receives a reply.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: “And I was kidding. Heh. Gotcha good there, didn’t I? So where are you in Paris?” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>A thin smile appears across Giorno’s lips.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Golden_HarunoS: “I don’t know... Maybe come find me? ;)” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>He taps on the camera icon and looks around his hotel room, thinking of what he can send to the artist as a hint of where he is located. He receives a notification.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: “You know I’d do anything to find you.”  </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>And that was it. Giorno’s heart starts to race. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he finds himself smiling from ear to ear, his cheeks warm and tainted pink, and his hands shaking. This feeling that he’d been searching for had found him instead and it had a name—a name he never would’ve expected—Kishibe Rohan. </p><p>He snaps a photo of his luggage bag by the vanity table across his bed and sends it to the artist.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Golden_HarunoS: “Here’s your first clue.” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>He then opens the old rose velvet curtain, revealing the majestic evening sight of Paris, where the Eiffel tower stands proud from the near distance. He snaps another photo and sends it.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Golden_HarunoS: “Second clue.” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Before he can snap another photo, his phone notifies him of a message.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: “I know where you are. I’ll meet you at your hotel lobby.” </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Golden_HarunoS: “That was quick. How did you figure it out so fast?” </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: “The detective and his criminal wear different versions of the same mask. ;)” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Giorno starts to panic—and since when did his mind learn how to panic? He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror wearing the hotel’s bathrobe. He can’t possibly meet the artist looking so… bare and unprepared; it simply won’t do. It will be so embarrassing.</p><p>He opens the closet and takes his plain royal blue turtleneck and black leather pants. Might as well go with something simple, considering that he has to get dressed as quickly as he can. He pairs it with his black suede ankle boots and tops it off with an overcoat. </p><p>Checking the hotel mirror once, twice, thrice. He lets his golden hair down and runs his hands down the soft wavy locks that resulted from the braid which he loosened upon returning to his room from the Louvre. </p><p>He takes his small ladybug pendant from its case and wears it, taking a good moment to admire it in front of the mirror; its sleek and sophisticated design adding a good contrast to his outfit with its hot pink base and chain made of gold. It was his trademark accessory, and he never leaves home without it. He stares at the pendant mindlessly, as if he was being drawn to its beauty. After a long silence, a few words finally escaped his lips, <em> “Mista loved this pendant.” </em></p><p>His trance is cut short when he hears a notification tone from his phone. He quickly unlocks it. It was Rohan.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: “I’m at the lobby. Hotel Paris Neuilly.” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>His heart starts to race again. He has only just arrived in Paris yet he’s meeting a complete stranger just because he took such stunning and artistic photos of him. He breathes out slowly. He’s a famous Japanese artist, not some psychopath. Surely it’ll be alright to meet him… Right? He tries to reiterate Narancia’s words to himself. “City of Love, man.”</p><p>He bites his lower lip as an attempt to suppress his smile. He types on his phone.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Golden_HarunoS: “Great job, detective. I’ll be right down.” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Giorno leaves the room. Composed, relaxed, and ready. Yet as he walks down the hall, his knees begin to buckle, and with each passing step, he feels his legs weaken. As if in a daze, Giorno stumbles to the elevator. A trembling finger reaches out to call the elevator. He watches as the up arrow illuminates itself and begins counting up from the ground floor.</p><p><em> “Okay. I’m on the 9th floor. This should be more than enough time to pull myself together,” </em>He thinks to himself. He keeps his eyes on the number on the screen. </p><p>3</p><p>Breathe in, and out.</p><p>                       5 </p><p>                              In, then out...</p><p>                                                   6, 7, 8,</p><p>                                                     Breathe in... </p><p>                                                                9</p><p>                                                                     and out…</p><p>*<em> ding </em>*</p><p>Giorno manages to calm down, and expel most if not all of his worries just as the elevator doors swing open. He calmly steps in and presses the button for the ground floor. The doors close and he descends towards the lobby, where his photographer patiently waits. Compared to when the elevator was rising, Giorno finds his descent a little too fast, but he merely shrugs off the thought. The less clutter in his mind, the better. </p><p>It doesn’t take another while until he hears the elevator’s <em>ding </em>. The doors slowly open and he steps out. He takes his phone out of his pocket and types.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Golden_HarunoS: “I’m at the lobby, wearing a royal blue top underneath an overcoat. How about you?” </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> *Seen* </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>The artist doesn’t reply. This makes Giorno a bit nervous. <em> “Why did Rohan just leave it on read? Where is he? Is he just pulling a prank?” </em> He turns his head from left to right, scanning the area as he approaches the lobby. <em> “Based on his profile photo, he has green hair and a headband. All I have to do is look for that person.” </em> He takes a deep breath to calm himself down. </p><p>His phone pings him: <em> “Heavens_DoorR sent you a photo”</em>. He quickly unlocks his phone to open the message. He sees a full-body shot of himself looking to his side. He takes the photo as a hint and quickly deduces the artist’s location from the angle of the shot: his mystery man is by the hotel’s cafe. </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: “Now it’s your turn to play detective.” </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Giorno turns to the direction of the cafe, and takes one step forward. Then another, and another. His eyes frantically searching for any trace of green hair in the crowd. As he slowly approaches the cafe, he makes out a patch of green hair. His pace starts to quicken as he draws closer. Slowly, the crowd of people thins out and he finally catches a glimpse of Rohan who is sipping a cup of tea.</p><p>The man sipping the tea notices him approaching and takes one final sip before setting down his cup on the wooden table. He glances at Giorno, making sure he catches and takes in the blond’s emerald eyes. </p><p>“Congratulations, detective. You got me,” the artist smirks. “座ってくれない？<em>(Won’t you sit with me?)</em>” He says in Japanese.</p><p>Giorno, taken aback by Rohan’s piercing green eyes and straightforwardness, takes a few moments to reply. He had to admit it to himself: the man before him looks stunningly attractive.</p><p>“Sorry, I don’t speak Japanese,” he simply answers. It takes him quite a bit of effort to ensure that his voice doesn’t shake before the man. </p><p>Rohan lets out a light-hearted chuckle and reiterates, this time, in English. “Won’t you sit with me?” Gently motioning to the seat in front of him. To which the blond responds with a nod and takes the offer.</p><p>“Just so we’re on the same page,” Giorno says as he puts his phone on the desk. “It was you who went out looking for me.”</p><p>A small smirk appears on Rohan’s face and in a light, wishy-washy tone, says “まあ、どうでもいいよ、春乃さん。<em> (Well, it doesn’t matter, Haruno-san). </em> ”</p><p>“I’ll only repeat this once for you,” Giorno gives the artist a light warning. “I don’t speak Japanese.”</p><p>“But your name is Japanese,” Rohan teases as he sips his tea. </p><p>“I’m from Napoli and I’m Italian. My name used to be Haruno Shiobana.”</p><p>“Used to be?” The artist asks with a raised brow. “Then would you grant me the honor of knowing your name?” He takes his hand and brings it in front of the blond.</p><p>“I go by Giorno Giovanna now,” he answers as he places his hand on Rohan’s. “Just call me Giorno.” He simpers.</p><p>“Giorno,” Rohan repeats. “Beautiful. Just like you.” he takes the hand and places a gentle kiss on it. Giorno knows this gesture all too well.</p><p>“A-And what should I call you?” Giorno shyly asks, breaking their eye contact. The artist notices this and slowly lets go of the blond’s hand, knowing well that what he did may have made his muse uncomfortable.</p><p>“You can call me whatever you want. But Rohan is also fine,” the man coyly says.</p><p><em> ‘How unnecessary,’ </em> Giorno thinks. He shakes his head dismissively. <em> ‘I guess it wouldn’t hurt to entertain him.’ </em></p><p>“If I call you a criminal?” he cocks his brow.</p><p>“Like I said, detective, you already got me,” Rohan lifts his palms before Giorno, as if he is surrendering and ready to be cuffed. “What else do you want?”</p><p>Heat builds up in Giorno’s body. That last sentence definitely had… <em> something </em>in it—he just couldn’t pinpoint what. Was it the way Rohan lifted his hands with a cocky smile on his face? Was it that almost sultry shift in his tone? He feels his face warm up, and he’s sure that a light shade of pink is dusting his cheeks. He swallows what felt like a bump stuck in his throat. </p><p>“I’m waiting, Giorno,” the artist teases. He carefully pushes a glass of water towards his muse with his hand. “But please,” he huffs out a small laughter, “do drink. You seem thirsty.”</p><p>Giorno moistens his lips at the sight of the glass and drinks it at well-paced sips. As he puts the glass down, and places his elbows on the table.</p><p>“Take me somewhere nice?” he simply smiles at Rohan. “I’ve only arrived here today and...” he lets his head hang slightly, allowing his cheek to gently rest on the back of his hand. Without skipping a beat, he purrs, “I could use a little company,” as he meets Rohan’s gaze.</p><p>“Oh?” Rohan’s devious smile grows a little bigger. “No plans tonight with anyone?”</p><p>“None,” he answers immediately. “Unless someone would like to make plans with me.” he winks.</p><p>The glint in Rohan’s eyes is undeniable. “Well then Giorno,” the artist coolly leans back on his chair. Without breaking eye contact, he asks “shall we go?” Rohan stands up and offers his hand to Giorno.</p><p>Giorno remains seated, but follows the artist with his emerald eyes. “Go where?”</p><p>“You’ll see,” Rohan winks, his arm outstretched, still waiting for Giorno to reach out to him.</p><p>The boy remains silent, hesitant about the invitation.</p><p>“You know it’s not fun when I do all the work,” Rohan chimes in, gently taking Giorno’s hand. “Next time, you’re taking me out when I visit you in Italy. I don’t even want to think about lifting a finger,” he whispers in Giorno’s ear.</p><p>“Hm, it depends,” Giorno hums as he closes his eyes, taking in Rohan’s voice. “Give me a good time, I’ll gladly return the favor.”</p><p>Rohan’s grip tightens. “That’s the plan all along,” he leads Giorno out of the hotel and into the streets of the city.</p><p>“You know you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” Rohan casually mentions to Giorno as they walk down the street.</p><p>“I’m not promising anything,” Giorno protests. “It’s up to you to make me <em> want </em>to return the favor.” </p><p>As they walk, Giorno starts to think to himself. <em> “What’s come over me? I wasn’t like this before.” </em> Looking back, he was never this adventurous and spontaneous when he was with Mista; nor was he even this playful. They always had the same kind of dates, had the same food, shared the same stories. Eventually, it all felt too robotic, too structured, too repetitive.</p><p>But now, this mysterious stranger is taking him to an unknown place in a country he’s only been on for less than a day; and he was fine with it. In fact, he finds it absolutely thrilling.</p><p>At last, they finally arrive at the foot of a building covered in shimmering neon lights. Music blaring from the speakers spills out each time the doors open and close. Outside, Giorno eyes a long line of people, waiting to be let in. Rohan leads him past the line, slips the bouncer a bill, and gets in the bar.</p><p>Immediately after passing through the doors, Giorno instantly feels the thumping of the bass on his chest. The dark room was only illuminated by the constant flashing of the strobe lights. If Rohan weren’t holding on to him, he would have been sucked in the sea of bodies that were swaying to the music. They finally find an area by the bar where they could sit down. </p><p>“So <em>this </em>,” Giorno scoffs as he points at the area. “Is all you got? A club?”</p><p>Without saying a word, Rohan waves his hand, and one of the bartenders comes forward. He simply tells the bartender “Two Negronis.” Within moments, the drinks were on the table.</p><p>Giorno recognizes this drink. It’s a popular cocktail back in Napoli. One part gin, one part vermouth Rosso, and one part Campari, garnished with an orange peel. “A Negroni, in Paris?”</p><p>“You’d be surprised at the wonders of Paris,” Rohan says as he looks into Giorno’s eyes that beautifully reflect the neon lights, completely mesmerizing him. He passes the glass to him. “I know I was.”</p><p>Unconvinced, Giorno casually picks up his glass, and takes a whiff of the drink. He can smell the bitters, the spirits, and the orange peel as their scents intermingle with each other. He wets his lips before bringing the glass to his mouth, and takes a small sip. His eyes widen. </p><p>“Tastes just like home,” he smiles. “I guess you’re right, Mr. Criminal. There <em> are </em>many wonders in Paris.”</p><p>Rohan takes a sip from his own glass before replying. “Then humor me, Giorno,” he leans forward. “What other wonders have you seen in your brief time here?”</p><p>Giorno leans forward until his face is barely touching Rohan’s. “Guess,” he teases before leaning back into his chair, lightly playing with his drink.</p><p>“I believe I’m the one asking questions here,” Rohan replies without breaking eye contact.</p><p>“Well then,” Giorno takes another sip. “I’ll tell you... If you dance with me.” The music still blaring from every side of the room.</p><p>The artist finally leans back on his chair, a bit disappointed. He responds, “Don’t tell me you’re giving up the chase, Giorno. You’re giving in too soon.”</p><p>Irked by the man’s words, the golden-haired boy takes a glug of his drink. Had he been too rash? He can’t think of a response, and instead decides to take another sip of his drink. </p><p>“Woah there,” Rohan teases. “Aren’t you going a little too fast?”</p><p>Giorno brushes it off, and finishes his drink. He then speaks.</p><p>“No such thing as fast in the slow world of a lonely man.”</p><p>“A lonely man you say?” Rohan quizzically asks.  “How about I accompany the lonely man in his slow world?” He follows Giorno’s lead in finishing his drink. He raises his hand to call the attention of a server for another round.</p><p>Without waiting for Giorno to respond, the artist remarks. “Is that why you came to Paris? To find—”</p><p>“To find myself,” Giorno cuts in.</p><p>The drinks arrive shortly. They both take their glasses and have a few more sips.</p><p>Despite the thundering music in the bar, the silence between the two couldn’t be more deafening. Rohan decides to break the awkwardness. </p><p>“Would you like to tell me about it?” he catches the attention of the blond. “You don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable.”</p><p>Before long, Giorno raises his head and replies “No it’s fine. I appreciate the sincerity.” He sighs.</p><p>The artist tries to reach out to Giorno, but decides to leave him to his own thoughts. The blond seems to want to say something, but couldn’t.</p><p>As the music roared all around them, Giorno finds the strength to speak. “Would it be funny if I tell you that I went to the city of love with a broken heart?”</p><p>“Not at all,” Rohan remarks as he shakes his head. His voice seemed to take on a sing-songy tone. “So the lonely man travels to heal his broken heart. I’m sure there’s a story worth telling behind that premise, don’t you think so?”</p><p>Giorno remains silent. He takes a few sips. His eyes remain glued to his glass, trying to avoid the conversation from going on any further.</p><p>Rohan continues “Well if you want, I can tell you why I went to Paris.” The artist waits for a response, but nothing comes.</p><p>“I came to Paris to find inspiration for my next work,” he announces; taking advantage of Giorno’s silence. “Its theme revolves around the idea of god-sent beauty: graceful, ethereal, mesmerizing. I decided to go to the Louvre since it is known to house the finest works of art in all the world.” </p><p>While the artist continues his monologue, the blond’s gaze remains transfixed to his glass. Yet as the rambling continues, Giorno’s eyes start to shift towards the artist’s hand whose slender fingers are gently caressing his own glass.</p><p>“I was supposed to head back to Japan right after visiting the Louvre, but...,” he pauses, catching the attention of the blond who finally looks at him.</p><p>“Imagine my surprise when I found you in the museum.” He smiles at Giorno and fully consumes his cocktail. </p><p>A thin smile finally creases Giorno’s lips. The artist leans in closer to whisper against his ear.</p><p>“That’s more like it.”</p><p>Giorno’s heart skips a beat. He feels a sudden jolt of excitement run through his body as he feels his face heat up instantly. His heart starts to pound in his chest–-or was it the bass pummeling him with its every beat? He looks into Rohan’s eyes and he finds himself trying to slowly catch his breath. The artist’s deep green eyes appear to be looking straight into his being, tearing through him ravenously.</p><p>“Dance with me,” is all he manages to utter, almost beggingly, as if he were being hypnotized by those insatiable eyes.</p><p>“You know, you’re really cute when you’re like this, Giorno,” Rohan utters back. He stands up and offers his hand. “You make it hard for me to refuse you.”</p><p>Giorno grabs Rohan’s wrist, and in his bewildered state, leads them both to the dance floor. </p><p>Their hips sway to the beat, and they start to give in to the cacophony of the music, thrashing at them from every direction. The strobe makes their movements seem robotic, while the neon lights paint them in a wild medley of colors—intense, clashing, exhilarating. </p><p>Before long, Giorno’s hands find themselves on Rohan’s waist. Trembling at first, but now gripping with absolute certainty. Their movements start to synchronize with each other as they close in the distance they have between their bodies, heaving with every motion as they lose themselves more to the music.</p><p>Giorno has never felt a flurry of thrill, uneasiness, and raw desire like this before. He feels his head start to spin, yet he sees that the man in front of him is smirking; his eyes perfectly glued to him like a target on lockdown. A part of him is almost filled with fear, but he couldn’t deny it.</p><p>It felt <em>so </em>good to be stared down so intensely like how Rohan is doing to him.</p><p>“Don’t look at me like that,” The blond says as he inches even closer to the artist.</p><p>“Don’t lie to me, Giorno,” Rohan closes in. “I know you like it.” And just as he was about to let his lips touch Giorno’s, the Italian smiles widely and bites his lower lip. He raises his arms and closes his eyes and allows himself to come undone as he dances.</p><p>Rohan steps back and puts a significant amount of space between him and the blond; his body wishing to get the contact back. He wills himself to bear with the momentary distance.</p><p>His eyes take in the alluring beauty of the man in front of him: how the blond appears to sway slowly, how his golden hair and milky skin reflect the glaring colours of the neon lights—like a canvas full of bold and defined strokes of paint, creating a wonderful abstract work. </p><p>Oh, how he longs to touch and claim that piece of art that bears the name Giorno Giovanna.</p><p>His thoughts get interrupted when Giorno opens his eyes to find him an arm’s length away.</p><p>“Come back here,” Giorno whines, “I’m tired of all this chasing.”</p><p>“I just wanted to take a good look at you while you were dancing,” the artist retorts, “I want to remember it.”</p><p>“Why don’t you take a photo?” Giorno winks. “It’ll last longer.”</p><p>“How can I refuse my muse?”</p><p>The artist takes out his phone. He tries to find a good angle from where he can take a shot that he can be satisfied with. After a few tilts and turns of his phone, snaps a picture of the blond. </p><p>“Beautiful,” he whispers. “Incredibly beautiful.”</p><p>Before Rohan could show the shot to Giorno, the younger man takes it from his hands. </p><p>“Haughty tonight, aren’t we?” </p><p>“I’ll say it once again for you,” Giorno says as he glares at Rohan. “I’m tired of all this chasing.”</p><p>“Then tell me, Giorno. What do you want to do?” Rohan’s eyes seem to narrow, like a tiger about to lunge at its prey.</p><p>“I don’t plan on telling you,” is all the blond answers. He grabs the artist’s arm and pulls him in closer and closer, just until their noses touch. </p><p>“I’ll show you.” He whispers. He quickly takes Rohan by the back of his head and goes in for the kill. At last, the hunter has become the hunted, as the blond forcefully crashes his lips against the artist’s, aggressively kissing him; his fingers curling around the green hair. </p><p>Rohan is the first to break contact, pushing Giorno away to gasp for air. The blond is taken aback at the artist’s response. They lock eyes once again. And just as how their bodies seem to synchronize with the music, they pull each other back for more. They let their hands roam freely around each other and they desperately close in any form of distance between them as they deepen their frenzied kiss. At that moment, time seemed to stop everything else in place. Nothing else mattered.</p><p>After what seemed to be a long while, they both resurface from each other’s grasp, panting. Their faces are flushed, their chests heaving as they try to process the surge of pleasure that ran through them in their intoxicated state. Rohan gently tucks the blond’s stray locks behind his ear. </p><p>“Giorno, I—” he says between laborious breaths.</p><p>“Shut up and kiss me, Mista.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I swear this is a GioMis-centered series, but my co-author and I are enjoying the whole GioHan dynamic!! It's kinda like a guilty pleasure for us LOL.</p><p>Again, a huge shoutout to my co-author for helping me bring this concept to life! This only started out as a really rough (and random) drabble on chat, but it was him who really gave me that push to start writing this. So every kudos/comment/share I get here definitely reaches to him! &lt;3</p><p>This chapter is named after Tove Lo's "Equally Lost" featuring Doja Cat. Do give it a listen to get a better feel of this chapter!</p><p>As always, free to reach out to/scream at me on Twitter (<a href="http://twitter.com/yo_nanji">@yo_nanji</a>). I'm usually active there and I'm always looking for moots and friends~ ^-^</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Speechless</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"You got me hooked on your fingertips, baby<br/>Every time the pressure gets to me<br/>You got me hooked cause damn, you got me speechless<br/>You got me on the edge of tonight with you<br/>You got me, got me"</p>
<p>(from <i>Speechless</i> by Glades)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please know that the ages of the characters are adjusted in all parts of this series! :) Giorno is 18, which makes Mista 21. Rohan's age is also adjusted to 21 to avoid awkward age gaps.</p>
<p>There's sexual tension in this chapter, but nothing too explicit, so we'll keep the rating T+</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The throbbing of Giorno’s head wakes him up from his deep slumber. He sits up from his unusually large bed, trying to get his bearings. He feels the sudden chill from the air conditioner on his exposed torso. The blond finds himself naked in a room completely unfamiliar to him. His mind runs with a multitude of questions. </p>
<p>
  <em> ‘Where am I? What happened last night? Who brought me here? Shit, was it Rohan—?’ </em>
</p>
<p>He suddenly remembers the kiss he shared with the artist.</p>
<p>
  <em> ‘Shut up and kiss me, Mista.’ </em>
</p>
<p>He puts a hand on his lips, then runs it to his face. His head is still throbbing.</p>
<p>The sliding door opens across him and sees Rohan with only a towel wrapped around his waist, and a mug on his hand. He immediately turns his head to the side, avoiding the artist’s gaze on purpose. </p>
<p>“That’s not a nice way to greet me a good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” the mangaka says as he walks toward him. “Especially after what happened last night—”</p>
<p>“What happened last night?” Giorno demands. “Why am I—”</p>
<p>“Hey, hey, calm down,” Rohan chuckles as he places a mug of coffee on the bedside table. “Here, have this. It’s coffee.”</p>
<p>“I asked you a question,” the blond warns. “Best that you answer me.”</p>
<p>Rohan groans and sits on the far end of his bed. He didn’t think that his muse, who was so mischievous and bawdy the previous night, could be so easily provoked. </p>
<p>“To cut to the chase,” he sighs. “Nothing happened.”</p>
<p>“Then why am I naked?”</p>
<p>Rohan looks up at the ceiling and lets out a long exasperated sigh.</p>
<p>“Just to be clear, I know you’re still in love with that ‘Mizzta’ or whatever they’re called,” he remarks. “I brought you here because your hotel was too far away, and you’re naked because your clothes were drenched in sweat. So if you’re going to be hostile towards <em> me </em>, I suggest you just take your dirty ass clothes and leave.” Rohan takes a deep breath to try and regain his composure.</p>
<p>The blond is shocked with the string of words the artist uttered, and starts to feel a pang of guilt. It suddenly felt so out of place for him to wrongly accuse Rohan of taking advantage of him in his inebriated state.</p>
<p>Despite his initial embarrassment, Giorno tries to find the right words to say.</p>
<p>“Hey… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to attack you like that,” he starts. “It’s just this is all too distressing to me. I’m in a new country, I just met you, I woke up naked in your room. It just took me by surprise.”</p>
<p>The mangaka doesn’t move.</p>
<p>“So I’m sorry if I offended you. I didn’t mean to be so rude,” he pauses. “And thank you, for taking care of me.”</p>
<p>A few more seconds of silence pass by. Finally, Rohan turns to the blond with a calm face.</p>
<p>“It’s fine,” the artist coolly replies. “Though I did get a little offended. You seriously thought I was the type of person to do <em> that </em>?”</p>
<p>“Well… No…”</p>
<p>Rohan stands up to take the coffee from the table and offers it again to the blond. This time, Giorno takes it and starts to drink.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” he says politely. He takes a sip of the warm beverage. “It tastes good.”</p>
<p>“It better taste good,” comes a snarky reply. “If it doesn’t, then what the hell am I paying this hotel for?” He walks toward the room’s closet and tosses a clean bathrobe onto the bed. He turns his head to face Giorno.</p>
<p>“Excuse me?” is all the younger one says.</p>
<p>“I think you’re forgetting that this is my room,” the older one cuts in, raising his eyebrows. “I would like to get dressed, if your highness doesn’t mind.”</p>
<p>It takes Giorno a few seconds to realize that he was being stared at. He quickly takes the robe from the bed and puts it on. He shows himself out of the bedroom to give Rohan some privacy.</p>
<p>He takes a moment to observe the room's spacious lounge. ‘<em> He sure seems like the type who splurges on luxury.’ </em> he thinks to himself as he makes himself comfortable on the couch. He takes another sip of the coffee.</p>
<p>‘<em> If I had the money, I’d definitely treat Narancia and the others </em>—’ Giorno’s eyes widen at the sudden realization. He never updated Narancia about what happened last night since he was too tipsy; and knowing Narancia, it’s best to let him know as soon as possible. Giorno looks for his phone on his person. </p>
<p>
  <em> ‘Fuck, I must’ve left it in the bedroom.’ </em>
</p>
<p>He immediately stands up and slides the bedroom door open—</p>
<p>He sees Rohan only in his trousers; adjusting it at the waist, and making sure that the belt isn't too tight. </p>
<p>“Sheesh... Have you ever heard of knocking?” the artist groans.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” Giorno replies again. “I just forgot something. I’ll be in and out of your room.” He quickly walks toward the bedside table, but his phone is nowhere to be found. He lifts the pillows, the sheets, and checks underneath the bed... </p>
<p>“Taking your sweet time, Giorno?” </p>
<p>“Wait,” the blond answers. “I can’t find my phone—”</p>
<p>“Oh? Is that what you’re looking for?” the artist chimes in mischievously. Giorno can tell that the man is plotting something with the way he sneered.</p>
<p>“Do you know where it is?” he simply asks.</p>
<p>“I have it here,” Rohan answers as he turns his head to face Giorno. “But you have to get it from me.” </p>
<p>And there it is. The artist’s signature smirk.</p>
<p>“I have no time for games.”</p>
<p>“Who said anything about playing?”</p>
<p>“This is serious.”</p>
<p>“Well I <em> am </em> being serious, Giorno. Come over here and take it.” Rohan turns around to fully face Giorno with a shirt in both hands. The blond sees his phone peeking out of Rohan’s left pocket. </p>
<p>“Just hand it over, please.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry Giorno, but my hands are full,” Rohan sighs, gently lifting his arms to make Giorno notice the shirts he was holding. “Do me a favor and get it yourself?” </p>
<p>The blond takes a good moment to look at the man. His eyes then slowly shift to the pocket where his phone is. His heart starts to race. He didn’t want to admit it, but he finds himself thinking it before he could stop:</p>
<p>Rohan looks undeniably more attractive without a shirt on.</p>
<p>“So?” the artist breaks his train of thought. “Are you getting it or what?”</p>
<p>It takes a moment for Giorno to react. But as if his body had a mind of its own, he slowly starts inching closer to Rohan.</p>
<p>“That’s more like it,” Rohan winks. Giorno remembers the artist using this exact same line from last night. And just like that time, he feels his face heat up. He doesn’t know if Rohan was doing it on purpose, but either way, it’s working.</p>
<p>One step, then another, the blond closes the gap between them. With each stride, the small smile on Rohan’s face grows even wider.</p>
<p>He knows that it is a trap so intricately planned by the man, but even if he makes an attempt to resist it, it’s futile. He manages to get as close to Rohan as possible, to the point that he can feel the artist breathing down on him.</p>
<p>“Make your move, Giorno,” he whispers as he brings his face closer.</p>
<p>Giorno slowly reaches out towards the man’s pocket, finally succumbing to his taunts.</p>
<p>He finally gets a feel of his phone. But before he could manage to fish it out, Rohan pulls on his arm and tucks his stray hair behind his ear.</p>
<p>“Forget him,” he mumbles.</p>
<p>“W-What?” the younger man stammers.</p>
<p>Rohan pulls Giorno closer as they stare into each other’s eyes. The pair of deep green eyes pierce through the younger man’s soul, petrifying him as the older one draws his face closer and closer until there is only a minuscule amount of distance left.</p>
<p>Giorno closes his eyes, expecting to feel a pair of lips on his.</p>
<p>“But if you can’t,” Rohan cuts in. “I guess it can’t be helped.” He slowly backs away, releasing Giorno from his grip. He takes the phone from his pocket and hands it to its owner.</p>
<p>Without saying anything else, the younger man claims the phone, his eyes still locked in with the artist’s.</p>
<p>Rohan notices a slight pout on Giorno’s face. He can’t help but let out a tiny chuckle as he turns around, and continues dressing himself.</p>
<p>He was barely able to do the top two buttons of his shirt when suddenly, a hand tightly grips his shoulder and swings him around once more.</p>
<p>“What if I told you, I can?” Giorno replies.</p>
<p>Rohan notices Giorno’s voice shaking, as if he was trying to force the words out of his mouth.</p>
<p>“I don’t like liars, Giorno,” Rohan dryly responds. “I know you can’t.”</p>
<p>“I-I’m not lying,” Giorno snaps back.</p>
<p>“But,” he pauses and takes Giorno by the chin. “If it makes things easier for you,” he brings his face closer to the blond once again. </p>
<p>Giorno’s eyes widen at what the artist utters next.</p>
<p>“You can call me Mista,” he whispers. A smirk crawls its way to his face as he closes in the distance and plants his lips onto the blond’s.</p>
<p>“I—,” is all he manages to react as their lips part.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter what you call me as long as it’s me,” Rohan moves in for another kiss.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Giorno’s phone starts to vibrate in his hands. Narancia’s messages have still been left unread. As the vibration continues, Giorno realizes that those aren’t Narancia’s messages spamming him. </p>
<p>It is Narancia calling him.</p>
<p>Rohan suddenly breaks away from Giorno. “Aren’t you going to answer that?” he asks, trying to hold in his laughter.</p>
<p>“Uh… Yeah. Sure,” Giorno sees himself out of the bedroom, and into the lounge. He lets out an annoyed sigh, and answers the phone.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Uhm… I don’t know what keeps crawling up your butt, but there sure seems to be a lot of them in Paris, buddy.”</p>
<p>“Ugh. Sorry, Narancia. I know you’ve been trying to contact me. It’s just… a lot of things happened last night.”</p>
<p>“Don’t tell me…” Narancia gasps. “GIORNO, SPILL. DID YOU HOOK UP WITH ROHAN? C’MON, YOU KNOW YOU CAN TELL ME, RIGHT? I WANNA HEAR EVERYTHING.”</p>
<p>Giorno hears Trish smacking Narancia at the back of his head again. He lets out a laugh. </p>
<p>Seemingly unfazed by the pain, Narancia keeps pestering Giorno.</p>
<p>“So… did ya? Did ya? I think ya did. Ya did, did ya?” Narancia repeats in a quieter tone.</p>
<p>“Hate to break it to you, Narancia. But, nothing happened last night,” Giorno casually answers.</p>
<p>“You’re joking, right?”</p>
<p>“Do I sound like I’m joking?” </p>
<p>And before Narancia could even respond, the sliding door burst open. </p>
<p>“Hey, I’m done changing. You could use some of my clothes,” the artist announces in an unusually loud voice.</p>
<p>“Wait... Who’s that? Giorno, are you lying to me!?” Narancia sulks. “In all our time as friends, I never thought you’d lie to ME. Why if I was there, I’d—”</p>
<p>Giorno hangs up the phone. </p>
<p>“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you still on the phone?” Rohan teases the younger man. </p>
<p>“It’s fine,” he replies. “I needed a shower anyway.”</p>
<p>“It’s all yours,” Rohan points towards his room. “Unless you want some company.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, but no thanks,” Giorno says as he walks into the room, not even glancing in Rohan’s general direction. He slides the doors closed and heads towards the shower.</p>
<p>As the warm water hits his face, he sighs and contemplates on how unnecessary Rohan’s actions were.</p>
<p>
  <em> ‘He didn’t have to make me get my own phone like that.’ </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>           ‘He didn’t have to raise his voice like that.’ </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>                    ‘He didn’t have to kiss me like that.’ </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>                          ‘He didn’t have to look for me on Instagram like that.’ </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> ‘He didn’t have to tell me to call him Mista…’ </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> ‘Useless… So useless.’ </em>
</p>
<p>He decides not to dwell on it any further. He continues showering, washing himself off the filth from last night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He comes out of the bathroom wearing Rohan’s clothes: a thick black long-sleeved top paired with maroon pants. He contemplates on asking Rohan for a coat, but immediately dismisses the thought when he finds the mangaka lying on his bed, fully clothed, and reading a book. The artist immediately takes his eyes off what he was reading and looks at Giorno from head to toe, examining him.</p>
<p>“I’m leaving,” the younger man says as he heads for the door.</p>
<p>“So soon?”</p>
<p>Giorno doesn’t answer. He slides the doors open, about to head out into the lounge.</p>
<p>“So you’re just gonna leave? That’s it? You know, that’s pretty selfish.”</p>
<p>Giorno remembers those words all too well. Yet even if he feels his heart drop, he pretends as if he didn’t hear anything at all.</p>
<p>“I’ll just return your clothes tomorrow. Let’s meet somewhere by then.”</p>
<p>“Wait. Don’t go yet.” </p>
<p>Just before Giorno reaches the door, he feels Rohan grab him by the wrist.</p>
<p>“I said, wait.”</p>
<p>Giorno shakes him off. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but I have to go. Thank you for your hospitality.” and leaves the room. He takes the elevator down, and makes his way out of the hotel.</p>
<p>He sighs out of relief. His chest feels a lot lighter, but for some reason…</p>
<p>He feels hollow. </p>
<p><em> ‘You’re not supposed to get attached to him.’ </em>he repeats to himself. Yet, he finds himself getting his phone and searching for Rohan’s IG profile.</p>
<p>He covers his mouth with his hand.</p>
<p>Rohan posted a photo of him from last night; smiling while biting his lip playfully at the camera.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: Tonight, you got my time. Tonight you got my mind. #HesMine </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>He sees around 20,000 likes. He taps on it, scrolling carefully for a single username.</p>
<p>
  <em> ‘But would he even…?’ </em>
</p>
<p>And there it is: “Guidomsssta”</p>
<p>He feels his heart sink. He wonders how Mista is feeling after seeing the post. He is tempted to reach out to him, desperate to clarify things; that there is nothing between him and the artist. But he couldn’t bring himself to talk to his ex.</p>
<p>He calls Narancia instead.</p>
<p>“I knew you’d come back. THEY ALWAYS COME BACK,” Narancia huffs triumphantly as he answers the phone.</p>
<p>“Narancia—”</p>
<p>“DUDE, MISTA SAW IT HOLY SHIT—”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“So you come crawling back to your old buddy, Narancia, for some advice! You know Giorno, I don’t like how you ended our call last time. I require payment!!! You better bring me expensive souvenirs from Paris!”</p>
<p>“Narancia, I just want to know how Mista is,” he finally admits with a sigh.</p>
<p>“You want the honest answer, or you want me to sugarcoat it for you?”</p>
<p>“You know me, Narancia.”</p>
<p>“Not good, bud. He locked himself in his room… Wouldn’t talk to any of us.”</p>
<p>The blond stops walking and doesn’t respond.</p>
<p>“Still there, buddy? I’m sorry, I—”</p>
<p>“No it’s okay, Narancia,” he finally manages to speak. “Thank you… For being honest.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “Just so you know, nothing happened. Really. There’s nothing going on between me and Rohan. I’ll tell you all about it when I come back.”</p>
<p>“I know. I know. I believe ya,” Narancia replies. “But that aside, don’t let it dampen your mood. You’re there to enjoy, okay? I’m just here for ya, bud.”</p>
<p>“Okay Narancia, thanks.” </p>
<p>Giorno hangs up the phone and sighs. He checks the time: 16:00. Just how long had he been asleep…? He shakes the thought away. Again, Narancia is right. There is no point in dwelling on the past. It is useless, useless, useless…</p>
<p>Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of a tall looming figure some ways away. He realizes it to be the Eiffel Tower. Without a moment’s hesitation, he starts heading toward it. <em> ‘I should probably check it out.’ </em> </p>
<p>Giorno reaches the base of the tower, and marvels at the structure. Originally built to showcase France’s technical and structural know-how, the Eiffel Tower stands tall and proud in front of him. It takes him a good while to realize that he hadn’t booked a ticket in advance and needed to fall in line. After seeing the long queue, he reluctantly falls in line.</p>
<p>After what felt like a good hour of waiting, he finally purchases a ticket which grants him access to the tower’s 2nd and top floors.</p>
<p>He walks slowly as he starts to explore, making sure to fully immerse himself in the experience—from the way tourists would walk around the area, to the chill of the wind as he gazes in awe at the beautiful sight of the city. He feels a comforting warmth wrap around him amidst the cool weather.</p>
<p>Yet somehow, the thought of Mista and Rohan kept bothering him no matter how much he brushes off the thought.</p>
<p>He takes the lift to the top floor. </p>
<p>He always knew that Paris was beautiful and dreamy, but words will probably never encompass what he felt as he sees the spectacular view of the city at 276 meters from the ground. He smiles and takes his phone out to snap a photo. </p>
<p>
  <em> ‘I’m sure everyone will want to see this.’ </em>
</p>
<p>“Excuse me,” a woman approaches him, “would you mind taking our photo, please?” she asks as she hands her phone to Giorno. </p>
<p>“No problem,” he answers. The woman walks towards a man whom the blond assumes is her lover. He holds the phone and within the count of three, takes a snap. The lady immediately walks to his direction and politely thanks him. And with no second to spare, the couple walks away.</p>
<p>That is when he realizes how lonely it felt to be at the Eiffel Tower by himself.</p>
<p>He goes to the champagne bar to get a glass and returns to where he stood moments ago. He takes a sip as he gazes at the cityscape. </p>
<p>
  <em> ‘I wish he were here.’ </em>
</p>
<p>He takes a look at his phone. The time reads 18:30. He sighs. How he wishes time could move just a bit faster, just so he can witness the sun bidding farewell to him–-so he can admire the sun paint the skies with its warm tones of oranges and pinks as they blend with the blues, creating a wonderful medley of colors before fading into the dark blanket of the evening.</p>
<p>He remembers what he told Rohan the previous night: <em> ‘No such thing as fast in the slow world of a lonely man.’ </em></p>
<p>And lonely, he truly felt.</p>
<p>Suddenly, Giorno’s stomach begins to grumble, as if to remind him that he hasn’t eaten anything since he woke up.</p>
<p>He finishes what is left of his champagne and returns to the first-floor restaurant, managing to get a table for himself at the La Bulle Parisienne. </p>
<p>He goes through the motions of ordering his food. He sits at his table, staring blankly into space.  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake away the thought of Mista that repeatedly invaded his mind.</p>
<p>Once his food arrives, he begins to eat. Like a robot, he mechanically brings the food into his mouth, chews, and swallows. Giorno doesn’t care for the taste, the only thing in his head right now is Mista.</p>
<p>He takes out his phone. It wouldn’t hurt to at least ask how he is doing.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Hey… How are you? Please don’t forget to eat dinner. Don’t make the guys worry too much about you. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>After a couple rounds of typing and deleting, he finally gets the courage to send the message. To his surprise, a reply comes within a few seconds.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Hi. I’m fine. I’m having dinner with the gang right now. Narancia’s looking at me with a weird look on his face. I’ll pretend I didn’t notice it lol. Thanks for the concern. Enjoy your trip. I hope you make wonderful memories in Paris. I hope you find what you’re looking for. :) </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>It takes a split-second reaction from Giorno to quickly grip onto his fork just before it slipped from his fingers. Suddenly, his surroundings are engulfed with silence. His chest begins to tighten as he feels his heart about to burst. He puts his phone down.</p>
<p>It’s been six months. It’s no longer supposed to hurt.</p>
<p><em> ‘But why…?’ </em> he asks himself as tears start to roll down his cheeks.</p>
<p>He takes his phone back out, and starts typing.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Please tell me you miss me. I miss you so much. Please say you still love me. I still love you. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>The tears in his eyes start to overflow. He reads the message over and over. And with trembling fingers, erases the message. </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Thank you, Mista. :) </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>He puts his phone down the moment he sends the message and reaches for Rohan’s handkerchief to wipe his tears with.</p>
<p>As he continues to eat, he steals glances at his phone from time to time. Waiting for a notification, a vibration, anything that would tell him Mista replied. But like a stone, his phone remained silent. As the food on his plate slowly disappears, his yearning for at least a simple reply grows. He takes his last bite, still waiting for a reply. He chews slowly, as if giving his phone some more time. But nothing comes.</p>
<p>He sighs and looks around him; whichever way he looks, he sees couples enjoying their evening. Not a single lone person; except for him. He doesn’t know why, but it starts to irritate him. Is he really feeling <em> that </em> lonely? Is it the wine that’s making him feel this way? He takes his wine glass and finishes its contents.</p>
<p>It is definitely not the wine.</p>
<p>Giorno takes his phone, giving it one last chance to show him a reply. The phone stays silent; irritating him even more. With a sigh of defeat, he messages Narancia.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> How’s he doing? </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>In a few seconds, his phone rings. Narancia is calling him.</p>
<p>“Hey Narancia,” he answers.</p>
<p>“Hey bud. I just think it’d be better if I called.”</p>
<p>The blond hums in response, waiting for his friend to continue.</p>
<p>“Did you message Mista?”</p>
<p>Silence.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Narancia sighs. “You messaged him. Dude, that was a wrong move…”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“He… Said he lost his appetite after getting a phone notif and left. I’m sorry, Giorno, but he’s only ever like that when it’s about… Y’know… <em> you </em>.”</p>
<p>“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” is all he manages to tell his friend.</p>
<p>“No no, don’t! It’s okay—I mean, it’s not okay since Mista got hurt, but it’s not your fault!! So in a way, it <em> is </em> okay? Wait, no—Ugh, you get what I mean, right, buddy?”</p>
<p>Giorno remains silent. He doesn’t know what he is waiting for. Is he waiting for Narancia to clear up what he said? Is he waiting for Narancia to offer more comforting words? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he needed someone to lean on. Now more than ever.</p>
<p>“Giorno,” Narancia calls out. “I’m sorry… Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. I was just—”</p>
<p>“It’s okay, Narancia,” the blond forces a smile. “You were just being honest. You know that I would prefer the hurtful truth over a comforting lie.”</p>
<p>“I know, I know,” Narancia repeats as he lets out a small sigh. “So what are you gonna do now?”</p>
<p>“I think I need a drink,” he answers. “Did you know there’s a bar nearby that serves Negronis?”</p>
<p>“You’re seriously drinking Negronis in Paris…?”</p>
<p>“Trust me, it tastes like the one we always go to,” he chuckles. “Makes me kinda miss those Friday night-outs with all of you.”</p>
<p>“If only we can have them like we used to, huh, buddy?”</p>
<p>“If only…” Giorno pauses. “Thanks, Narancia, I really appreciate the call. But now, I really need a drink.”</p>
<p>“Sure thing buddy! Enjoy Paris! We’ll be waiting for you here!” Narancia cheerfully replies before hanging up.</p>
<p>And with that, he pays for his bill and quietly leaves the restaurant. As he steps out to the Parisian streets, the cold wind hits him. He shivers, wrapping his arms around himself. Trying to use what little body heat he had to fight the cold.</p>
<p>He really should’ve borrowed a coat from Rohan. </p>
<p>He continues walking, trying to bear the chilly evening. Using his phone as a map, he finds the fastest route towards the club. He would sometimes huff into cupped hands for the momentary comfort the heat of his breath brought. And after navigating through the streets of Paris, he once again finds himself at the bar from last night.</p>
<p>Thankfully, there were fewer people than the night before and he manages to slip into the building quite easily. He walks straight towards the bar and immediately orders a Negroni; just like last time.</p>
<p>He consumes his drink as fast as he could—without giving a single care in the world—just so he could get another. </p>
<p>For the first time in his 18-year-old life, he’s not drinking for fun. He’s drinking to forget.</p>
<p> As he drinks one glass after another, he checks his phone for any sign of Rohan—</p>
<p>
  <em> ‘Fuck.’ </em>
</p>
<p>He couldn’t believe himself. </p>
<p>Why, of all people, did it have to be Rohan who first enters his mind? He hated himself for a moment. What is it with Rohan that made him crave for the man’s presence? Was it the attention he is getting? Was it the man’s charm? Was it the alcohol? He finishes his fifth glass and slams it on the table.</p>
<p>It’s definitely the alcohol.</p>
<p>Giorno didn’t want to think about it anymore. He takes out his phone and begins sloppily typing out a message to the artist.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Golden_HarunoS: Detectivvr. Im at the scen of thr crimme. Pls I need u heree </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>He immediately sees those three dots on his phone, indicating that Rohan was typing out his reply.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: I’m sorry, Giorno. What are you saying? </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>“PFFFFT” he slurs at his phone, rolling his eyes as he types with the same gusto and sloppiness as before.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Golden_HarunoS: im at th bar fr omm lasr night. Wont yuo dance with me? I feel so lonely rohaqn </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Heavens_DoorR: I’m sorry, Giorno. I’m a little busy tonight. I can’t babysit. :) Maybe next time? </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>He lets out a long exasperated sigh at the sight of the message. He closes his conversation with the artist and puts his phone back in his pocket.</p>
<p>It is going to be a long, slow night for the lonely man. He orders another drink.</p>
<p>“My my, drinking alone?” a familiar voice catches his attention from behind.</p>
<p>Giorno sluggishly spins around to see a lavender-haired man dressed in black leather, his kittenish eyes scanning him from head to toe.</p>
<p>The blond doesn’t seem to be fazed by his demeanor, and simply replies with  “It’s none of your business.”</p>
<p>“Oh c’mon, Giorno,” the man says. “You can’t be in the city of love all by your lonesome self, can you?” his eyes continue to observe the blond.</p>
<p>“I take it that you’re also alone, Melone?” he lazily cocks his brow at the man.</p>
<p>“I think there’s a certain charm in traveling alone,” Melone smiles deviously as he runs a gloved hand across Giorno’s shoulders. “For one, you’ll never know who you’ll meet along the way.”</p>
<p>As soon as Melone finishes his sentence, the bartender places Giorno’s Negroni on the table. But before the blond could even reach into his wallet, Melone hands a bill to the bartender.</p>
<p>“Keep the change,” he says as he looks into Giorno’s eyes and gives him a little wink.</p>
<p>“I didn’t ask you to pay for it,” the irritated blond blurts out.</p>
<p>“Oh, but who said this drink was yours?” the other responds as he makes himself comfortable by sitting on the barstool beside Giorno. He snatches the glass, then takes a sip.<br/>
“Besides,” he continues. “You look like you’ve had your fill.”</p>
<p>Giorno remains quiet, his eyes trained on the glass Melone is toying with. He awkwardly lurches forward and tries to snatch it out of the man’s hand. Melone, being much more sober, easily evades the futile attempt.</p>
<p>“See what I mean?” he laughs at the blond.</p>
<p>Melone continues to subtly eye Giorno as he struggles to regain his balance. </p>
<p>“Tsk tsk. That’s very naughty of you Giorno,” Melone teases. </p>
<p>“But I guess if you want it that badly, I’ll give it back,” he faces the blond leans in closer, to the point where he could feel Giorno’s bated breath on his face. “But you have to earn it.”</p>
<p>Melone licks his lips as soon as he catches a glimpse of Giorno’s uneasy face, and gets off the stool.</p>
<p>“Dance with me, Giorno,” he whispers into the blond’s ear.</p>
<p>Desperate to get his drink back, he stands up.</p>
<p>Melone starts to sway with the music, as he walks to the dancefloor; each step, in time with the beat. Once he reaches the center, he twirls around to face Giorno, extending his arm out to call the younger man. He continues toying with the Negroni in his other hand, inhaling the flavors wafting from the glass.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Giorno just stood there. Watching the man in black calling to him. The alcohol is definitely messing with his thoughts. In what universe would he have thought that Melone–-of all people–-could charm him like this? Giorno knew he didn’t want any part of it. But the way Melone teases him, the way he moves, the attention being given to him; he simply couldn’t resist.</p>
<p>He starts to move in sync with Melone, slowly inching towards him.</p>
<p>The lavender-haired man whistles. “Di molto!” he exclaims, “didn’t know <em> the </em>Giorno Giovanna could dance like that.”</p>
<p>“Shut up,” Giorno interrupts. “I just want my drink back.”</p>
<p>“Of course you do,” Melone’s grin grows. “You look <em> mighty </em> thirsty.”</p>
<p>The blond rolls his eyes at the remark and closes in on the older man. Melone shudders with delight as soon as their bodies touch. He slowly places his hand on Giorno’s waist, making sure to get a feel of the blond’s slim build. This is immediately reciprocated by the younger, as his hands make their way around Melone’s neck.</p>
<p>“Now can I get my drink back?”</p>
<p>Melone moistens his lips. “But dear Giorno,” he breathes. “You have to do better than that.” </p>
<p>Giorno clicks his tongue in annoyance. He can slowly feel himself sober up. He debates on whether or not it is worth anything to play with Melone’s games, but the music was too loud for him to properly think. </p>
<p>He just fucking wants a drink. </p>
<p>The man in leather wraps his free hand around Giorno’s waist, snaking around the back, pulling him in tighter. </p>
<p>“Now, don’t you think this feels,” Melone takes a second to stare into Giorno. “Much better?” He starts to gyrate, his body forcibly brushing against the younger man’s. </p>
<p>At this point, Giorno is fully aware of what is happening, and tries to push Melone away. The pale-faced man’s grip only tightens even further. </p>
<p>“Going so soon?” he teases. “Don’t you want your drink back?”</p>
<p>“Keep it,” Giorno starts. “I think I’ll find another place.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think you’re going anywhere. Not anytime soon, at least. I want to have my fun with you, Giorno Giovanna,” Melone sips at the Negroni.</p>
<p>“Don’t make me repeat myself,” the blond warns. “You know I don’t like saying anything twice.”</p>
<p>“And I don’t like it when people play hard to get,” Melone quickly responds.</p>
<p>“Do I look like I’m playing?” he snaps back with a deathly glare. “If I were you, it would be best to let go of me.”</p>
<p>“Or what?” Melone snarls. The tone of his voice quickly changes from playful to vicious. “It’s obvious why you’re here Giorno. You’re heartbroken cause your <em> precious little </em> Mista is fucking Prosciutto back in Napoli!” he seethes.</p>
<p>Giorno stops struggling all of a sudden; completely stunned with what Melone just said. </p>
<p>“W-What did you say?” Giorno stares at the floor; he suddenly can’t seem to look Melone in the eye.</p>
<p>“You heard what I said,” The man growls. “I’ve <em> seen </em> them sneaking into our dorm at night. I’ve <em> heard </em> them—”</p>
<p>Melone pauses, trying to regain his composure. He continues.</p>
<p>“And honestly. I’m quite jealous of what they have,” he eyes the blond. “So… Giorno,” he purrs. “What do you say? Wanna get even?”</p>
<p>Giorno couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Mista with Prosciutto? It sounds so unlikely. Surely Melone is lying just to take advantage of him… <em> ‘Right..?’ </em>he thinks to himself.</p>
<p>“You’re lying,” he finally says. “Mista wouldn’t do that. Just let me go.” he sighs defeatedly.</p>
<p>Melone tugs Giorno in closer, and leans into his ear. He whispers.</p>
<p>“If you’re here fucking around, who’s to say he’s not doing the same back home?”</p>
<p>For a moment, the blond doesn’t react. Melone’s eyes twinkle at the thought of finally catching his prey. </p>
<p>And like a flash of lightning, Giorno pulls the man in, covering his lips with his own. Melone starts to tremble with delight as he reciprocates the kiss, deepening it. Before things could go any further, the blond breaks away, leaving the other gasping for more. </p>
<p>“There,” he breathes, “this is what you wanted, right? Now let me go.”</p>
<p>“Di molto, Giorno!” Melone exclaims. “Exactly what I wanted. But don’t you think we can go... <em> further </em>?”</p>
<p>“No,” he firmly answers. “I gave you what you wanted. I’m tired of playing your stupid games.” he violently pushes Melone away and turns around to make a beeline for the exit. “So <em>fuck off</em>, Melone,” he adds.</p>
<p>Melone laughs in amusement. “No wonder Mista’s still so fucking hung up on you. You’re a feisty one! No matter how many times he’s fuckedProsciutto, I can still hear him moaning your name!!” he shouts, making sure that the blond hears every word loud and clear.</p>
<p>As much as he wanted to freeze and process what Melone just said, Giorno pretends that he didn’t hear anything and continues heading for the door. With each step, it becomes much harder for him to control the tears welling up in his eyes.</p>
<p>Before he makes it outside, the door swings open. </p>
<p>“Giorno!” Rohan exclaims. “What’s gotten into you? It looks like you’re about to—”</p>
<p>At the sight of the artist, Giorno couldn’t control himself any further. He jumps forward and embraces the man, desperately clinging on to him. His eyes burst as tears started streaming down his cheeks. </p>
<p>“I—,” He starts to choke on his sobs, forcing himself to suppress the aching in his heart. “H-He’s—” he whimpers. “A-All this time, I—”</p>
<p>Startled at first, Rohan slowly embraces Giorno, and moves to the side.</p>
<p>“It’s okay,” he whispers comfortingly. “Want me to bring you back to your hotel? I have your clothes here cleaned already.” He says, patiently waiting for the younger man to regain his composure and answer.</p>
<p>Giorno breathes out a heavy sigh. “Yes, please. I hate it here.” He wipes his tears with his sleeve.</p>
<p>As Rohan scans the club, he notices a lavender-haired man stealing glances at their direction. He glares at the man until both of their eyes meet. Without breaking eye contact, he wraps his arm around Giorno’s shoulders protectively.</p>
<p>“Let’s go, Giorno,” he says calmly to the blond. As they both take their leave, the mangaka takes one last moment to look at the stranger; making sure his presence and anger were felt.</p>
<p>The late-night air greets them with a sharp chill as soon as they step out of the building. Rohan notices the younger man shivering. He takes a sleeve off his coat and places it over Giorno’s shoulder. He gently brings the blond closer to his side; to which the blond obliges by tugging the coat to cover his slim frame a bit more.</p>
<p>“Hey. I’m sorry about earlier,” the older man says while walking. “I really was busy for a moment. Of course, I wanted to see you. I guess I was also still worked up about you leaving all of a sudden.”</p>
<p>As they near the corner, Rohan spots a cab approaching and hails it. </p>
<p>“Hotel Paris Neuilly, s’il vous plaît,” he simply tells the driver.</p>
<p>As they navigate through the winding roads of Paris, Rohan glances at the younger man who managed to doze off in his arms. He always knew that the boy had such an alluring charm and eloquence, but he couldn’t help but stare at the blond’s sleeping face and how gracefully it is being illuminated by each lamp post that the cab passes by. He gently places the sleeping head on his shoulder. And as the lights hit, Rohan makes sure that his eyes capture how wonderfully it seems to make Giorno’s hair and lashes glow like gold. He always knew it, but this time, he no longer holds back.</p>
<p>“You’re beautiful, Giorno,” he whispers. “Please let me protect you.”</p>
<p>Rohan looks out the window and recalls the time he first laid eyes on the golden-haired boy who’s now resting. Oh, how the boy easily stole his attention from all the works at the Louvre; how all of the most majestic masterpieces paled in comparison to the living breathing human standing before them, and how his hands trembled taking the photos that eventually led them to meet each other.</p>
<p>He was only supposed to admire the works of the world’s human masters. </p>
<p>Yet he ended up falling for what could be god’s <em>obra maestra</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Apologies for the delay in updating this!! My friend and I really love exploring and experimenting with different ship dynamics LOL and we wanna make sure we get a steady streamline of chapters to upload. This chapter was a little lengthy since we are reaching the end of Part 2, we hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as we enjoyed writing it!! </p>
<p>This chapter is named after Glades's "Speechless". Do give it a listen if you want!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Skylines</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Skylines are burning in between<br/>Tonight we're long lost love"</p><p>(from <i>Skylines</i> by Glades)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please know that the ages of the characters are adjusted in all parts of this series! :) Giorno is 18, which makes Mista 21. Rohan's age is also adjusted to 21 to avoid awkward age gaps.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As the cab neared the hotel, Rohan could feel Giorno’s head digging deeper into him. Rohan simply smiles at the act and obliges, allowing the younger man to nestle his head just underneath the artist’s cheek. Rohan leans his head on top of the blond and breathes out a comforted sigh.</p><p>
  <em> ‘If only this could last a bit longer.’ </em>
</p><p>Finally, the cab arrives at its destination. Giorno shakes himself awake, still drowsy from the ride, and with the help of Rohan, manages to get out of the cab. Rohan pays the cab driver and bids him farewell. They enter the building the same way they left the day before, with the mangaka leading the blond.</p><p>Rohan pushes a button to call an elevator. While waiting for it, he notices that Giorno’s aura has changed. From what was a confident and brave man, now but a mere shell of what he once was. From the way that he carried himself, to that dead and empty look he had in his eyes. The artist couldn’t read what was going on in the boy’s mind. </p><p>The ding of the elevator broke Rohan’s train of thought. As the doors swing open, he assisted the blond onto the lift.</p><p>“Ninth floor,” was all Giorno could utter. </p><p>Rohan quietly obliges.</p><p>As the elevator car starts its ascent, all Rohan could think of was the younger man. His mind races; </p><p>
  <em> ‘What happened in that club? Who was that man? How could he do this to someone like Giorno??’ </em>
</p><p>Once the elevator reached the ninth floor, Giorno was the first to step out. Without saying another word, he heads straight to his room; Rohan follows closely behind. </p><p>Giorno takes his keycard out and opens his door. He gestures for the artist to join him inside and sits on his bed.</p><p>“Thanks,” he says softly, “for bringing me home.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t want to hear news of a drunk blond tourist passing out on the streets of Paris,” Rohan laughs lightly. He takes a few steps toward Giorno and places a paper bag on the bed.</p><p>“Here are your clothes. They’re clean already,” he states. “Well then, I’ll take my leave.” he then turns around to head for the door. “Good night, Giorno—”</p><p>The blond takes him by the wrist.</p><p>“W-Would you,” the blond sheepishly utters. “Stay with me?” </p><p>Rohan is taken aback. He never knew that the boy could look at him so innocently and so… <em> longingly </em>, like he desperately needed him. His company. His presence. It takes Rohan a few seconds to reply.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Giorno,” the artist sighs. “I don’t think I’ve told you this, but my flight is in 6 hours—”</p><p>“Please?”</p><p>Rohan pauses to take a good look at the boy. All this time, he thought he was the one who had the blond wrapped around his finger. Oh, how terribly mistaken was he. He could leave everything behind; let go of everything, in exchange for even a moment to hold on to the perfection that is Giorno Giovanna. And just now, as he decided to ditch his flight back home, he knew he would willingly do it a dozen—no, a thousand— times over.</p><p>He lets out a huff of laughter before smiling at him again. </p><p>“How can I refuse my muse?” </p><p>The blond immediately stands up to wrap his arms around the artist’s waist. “Thank you,” Giorno whispers as he buries his face against the man’s chest. “I’m sorry. I just really need to be with someone right now.” </p><p>Rohan places his hand on the back of the blond’s head, gently pulling him into an embrace of his own. He starts to slowly sway in silence.</p><p>“It’s okay. You’re safe here,” is all he says. As he continues to sway, he notices the younger man start to tremble again.</p><p>Giorno is the first to break away.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” the blond says. “I think I need a warm shower.”</p><p>“Go ahead,” Rohan replies. “I’ll make you some tea for later,” he adds.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>After a couple of minutes, Giorno steps out of the bathroom in a simple white robe.  He sees Rohan awkwardly seated by the vanity table.</p><p>“You know you could at least try to make yourself comfortable,” he announces.</p><p>“I’m not the kind who oversteps his boundaries,” the artist replies with a smile. “But if you ask me, there really isn’t anywhere else I can sit.” he glances around the blond’s compact room.</p><p>Giorno slowly walks to his bed, and sits down on one of the sides. He looks at the mangaka.</p><p>“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable,” he pats the empty space next to him. “Over here?”</p><p>The older man raises a brow. “I’m wearing outside clothes.”</p><p>“And so?”</p><p>“Do Westerners really not care about these things?”</p><p>“Who said anything about wearing clothes?” Giorno retorts. </p><p>The artist doesn’t respond. He then takes the teacup on the vanity table and walks toward the blond.</p><p>“Here, have this,” he says. As he offers the cup, he notices the younger man’s eyes look at it with dread.</p><p>“W-What kind of tea is this?” Giorno asks defensively.</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“I…,” the blond trails off. “I’ve had a bad experience with tea in general,” he confesses.</p><p>“It’s chamomile,” Rohan simply answers. “I found it on your table.”</p><p>Giorno reluctantly lifts up the cup to his face and takes a whiff of the aroma. The odor immediately calms the man’s senses; easing his overworked mind into a more comfortable state. His tense shoulders begin to loosen, and he begins to slouch on his bed.</p><p>The blond lightly blows into the tea and takes a sip. The drink immediately warms up his body; from the pit of his stomach, all the way up to his cheeks.</p><p>“Thank you,” he says. “But you should really make yourself comfortable,” he chuckles. “It’s quite unsightly seeing you like this.” </p><p>Rohan laughs at the remark. “Again, I’m wearing outside clothes, Giorno.”</p><p>Giorno shoots him a slightly annoyed look. </p><p>“Pffft,” he looks away at the artist. “Who says you have to wear your outside clothes?” he mutters.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I’m not the one complaining about clothes here,” Giorno answers.</p><p>“I’m sorry, but I don’t want to get cold.”</p><p>“You won’t be if you just lay next to me,” the blond immediately responds, looking away from the artist. “What’s the point of skipping your flight, then?”</p><p>Rohan notices Giorno’s voice crack a little. He looks at the blond, and notices his eyes start to well up again. At the sight of this, he instantly sits next to the younger man. He wraps one of his arms around the boy and leans in close. </p><p>“Hey. I’m sorry,” he gently says, “I didn’t mean to sound so insensitive.”</p><p>The blond turns to face him. As their eyes meet, Rohan catches sight of the younger man’s eyes filled to the brim.</p><p>The artist sighs and strips himself off his shirt and trousers. With a small smile on his lips, he sits on the bed beside Giorno.</p><p>As the blond feels the weight on his bed, he quickly turns his head to find the mangaka settling beside him. He feels his heart race at an ironically steady pace. He lets his eyes travel from the man’s green hair down to his pale yet toned body—one that is much different from the one he used to love—and then to his eyes: green, deep, intense, yet strangely comforting. He starts to feel the warmth radiating from his own body and hopes that the man beside him doesn’t notice. His heart starts to melt at the thoughts racing through his mind.</p><p>Thoughts of Rohan touching him, holding him, protecting him… <em> Loving </em> him.</p><p>“Rohan—”</p><p>“That’s a first,” the artist smiles sweetly at him. “You never called me by my name till now.”</p><p>A rogue tear makes its way down Giorno’s cheek. Rohan gently brushes away the trail left by the tear with his hand.</p><p>The blond lies down on the bed, and looks at Rohan, waiting for the older man to do the same.</p><p>“Feeling sleepy?” the artist asks as he rests his head on one of the pillows. He faces Giorno.</p><p>“Just tired,” the blond murmurs, almost inaudibly. “I had a bad night.”</p><p>“Mind telling me about it?”</p><p>The younger one takes a moment to think. He was never the type to easily open up himself to anyone, let alone to people he barely knew. He had been so used to guarding his heart and avoiding useless or wasteful matters—more so since his previous relationship ended—but right at this moment, he convinces himself:</p><p>It was a habit that can be easily unlearned.</p><p>“I ran into a schoolmate at the bar,” he shares, “He told me…” he pauses, taking a deep breath before he continues; the shaking of his voice is more prominent than before.</p><p>“He told me that Mista…” he chokes. “H-has been sleeping with another man.” And just like that, he loses all the strength to keep his eyes from bursting into tears.</p><p>Rohan takes an arm over Giorno and pulls the blond close to him.</p><p>“You don’t have to continue,” he whispers as he kisses the younger man’s forehead. “It’s alright,” he reassures him, “just let it all out.”</p><p>Giorno buries his face at the crook of Rohan’s neck and wraps his arms around the artist. And with a sigh, he finally allows himself to feel all the hurt that he’s been trying to desperately run away from.</p><p>Rohan keeps his arms tightly wrapped around Giorno, constantly reassuring him that things will be okay. He can feel the younger man quivering uncontrollably as he lets himself overflow with emotions. Yet Rohan’s embrace stays true. Each minute seemed to feel like hours, but the longer he kept his arms around the blond, the shaking, and hiccupping, and choking became less and less apparent; until finally, the blond completely empties himself.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he finally manages to say. Even so, his voice remained shaky, thick, and hoarse.</p><p>“You don’t have to say sorry, Giorno,” the artist softly answers and places another kiss on the blond’s forehead. “Let me get you some water.”</p><p>But before he could even move away, Giorno reaches out and grabs on to Rohan’s bare shoulder. </p><p>From the pleading look in the blond’s eyes, Rohan already knows what he was going to say.</p><p>“Don’t go, please,” Giorno says, in between bated breaths. “Stay here—”</p><p>The artist simply smiles back. “Shhh,” he cooes. “I won’t go anywhere.” He pulls the blond back, embracing him once again.</p><p>They stay locked in each other’s arms, letting the world pass them by without a care. Everything around them seemed irrelevant; what mattered was the moment they were sharing together: tranquil, warm, and almost sweetly intimate. </p><p> </p><p>“Not sleepy yet?” Rohan is the first to break their comfortable silence. He glances at the wall clock that read 01:00, and then at Giorno. Their eyes meet. He notices how exhausted the blond appeared from how red and swollen his eyes are.</p><p>“I can’t sleep,” the blond responds with a sigh, breaking their eye contact.</p><p>“Is there something on your mind?” Rohan asks, a hint of concern hiding somewhere in his voice. </p><p>“No, it’s nothing—”</p><p>“You know by now you should be a bit more honest, right?” the older man chuckles at the defensiveness. </p><p>The blond remains silent.</p><p>“Okay,” the artist chimes in. “What can we do to help you sleep?”</p><p>The question makes Giorno’s lips part only for them to be sewn shut.</p><p>“I can’t help you if you won’t allow me to, Giorno,” Rohan smiles as he brings a hand to gently caress the blond’s cheek.</p><p>The younger man catches the other’s hand whilst brushing his cheek, and plants a soft kiss on it. This gives the older man an idea.</p><p>“Would you mind if I kiss you?” he politely asks.</p><p>“You don’t have to ask, you know.”</p><p>The artist smiles at the remark. He adjusts himself on the bed so his body is right above the younger man. He notices a star-shaped speckle hiding just behind Giorno’s neck. He places a chaste kiss on it.</p><p>“A tattoo?” he asks.</p><p>“No,” the blond answers. “I think it’s a birthmark. I’ve had it ever since.”</p><p>“The sun is a star, after all,” is all the artist says in reply. Without waiting for a response, he sees a lone freckle sitting right above Giorno’s shoulder and kisses it, earning a hum of approval from the boy. </p><p>The blond rolls to his side, revealing his back to the older man. The mangaka is greeted by a myriad of freckles, intricately spread throughout the milky skin. He takes a sweet moment to admire how they seem to form wondrous constellations. He runs a gentle hand along the skin, as if to trace and map out the cosmos that are yet to be discovered in the ethereal galaxy that is Giorno Giovanna. </p><p>He starts off from where he left, planting a delicate kiss on the next freckle. His lips, slowly tracing the different heavenly designs etched onto the blonds back; each kiss, causing the younger man to purr in satisfaction.</p><p>As the artist continues sowing his lips on to the blond’s body, he notices the boy start to doze off. He retraces his steps, kissing back where he came from. Finally stopping at the star-shaped birthmark, the very first thing he laid his lips on. He kisses it a bit more fervently than the first time—as if he were worshipping it.</p><p>The blond doesn’t move. The older man brushes away tufts of golden hair to reveal the face of the sleeping beauty. Rohan smiles.</p><p>“I know it sounds too sudden, but…” Rohan whispers before pausing. And with a heavy sigh,</p><p> “I love you, Giorno,” he finally admits.</p><p>The blond moves slightly to reposition himself and hums. Half-asleep, Giorno responds. </p><p>“I love you too… Mista.”</p><p><br/>
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</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
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</p><p>The golden rays of the sun penetrate through the window curtains and creep their way up towards the bed. As soon as the light touches his eyes, the young blond’s eyes lazily open themselves to meet the glow of the morning.</p><p>Giorno Giovanna sits himself up, yawning and stretching, trying to shed the drowsiness from his body. He rubs his eyes as he expels the last few traces of lethargy from himself.</p><p>Once fully awake, he walks around and takes a long look at his room. The paper bag of his clothes tucked neatly beside the bed, his shoes set aside near the door, a set of effervescent tablets next to a glass of water, and a small note.</p><p>He takes the piece of paper and reads it:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I’d still love to see you though. Perhaps, when I visit Napoli? Enjoy your stay in Paris. I hope you find what you’re looking for. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ~ Rohan” </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He turns the note over, and finds a small sketch. At first glance, it looks like it had been done in a rush, but Giorno finds it oddly picturesque. He sees long and decisive strokes of ink from a ballpoint pen. A little bit messy and rough, but he sees the lines forming a slim figure of a sleeping man with light, wavy hair and three distinctive curls over his forehead.</p><p>It was a sketch of him. A sketch that seemed so quickly yet lovingly done by none other than Kishibe Rohan.</p><p>But as Giorno looks around the room, the artist is nowhere to be found.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And we've reached the end of Part 2. Wow. That was quite a ride!</p><p>This chapter is based on Glades's "Skylines" so give it a listen, if you want!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And with that, this part has reached its conclusion!!! Wow!!! Thank you to those who tuned in, stayed, and have been patient with the relatively slow updates (++those who read through the GioHan parts LOL!). This part was definitely one of the best works I've written with my friend (so far) and we had so much fun writing every single word!</p><p>Again, this work is co-authored by a good friend of mine (who's twt is on priv so I can't share. I'm beyond thankful for his dedication in driving this passion project forward and further! So every kudos I get here, is also a credit to him!!</p><p>This entire part is named after Mamas Gun's "Sending You a Message". Do give it a listen, if you want!</p><p>Feel free to reach out to me on Twitter (<a href="http://twitter.com/yo_nanji">@yo_nanji</a>). I'm usually active there and I'm always looking for moots and friends~ ^-^</p><p>Part 3, anyone? :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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